The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road
by nefret24
Summary: ScottJean- movieverse. Chapter 8 uploaded. Jean and Scott talk about Logan, flirting, and how to save each other from themselves. Please RR.
1. Part I

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men but if Marvel, Stan Lee or 20th Century Fox want to loan me Scott for awhile, I'll have no complaints. 

Pairing: Scott/Jean with a little bit o' Jean/Logan UST to make things interestin'

Summary: Set before, after and during the movie. 

Author's Note: I'm a newbie at X-Men fanfic, and I realize that I'm probably most definitely gonna screw up at least a hundred times in this story, so please, be kind- (not only to me, but to Scott- he's really not such a bad guy as people make him out to be, sniff sniff [we love you James Mardsen!!! she cries hysterically]. The characterization of Scott and Jean are a combination of their movie/novelization components and their old anger-filled comic selves (just too controlled to my taste in some respects in the movie.)

Technical note: _Thoughts _versus //Telekinesis//

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted

Westchester, NY

The Metal Shop around 7:00 pm

"Excuse me? You will not **allow** it? Since when do you **allow** me to do anything?" Jean's voice grew louder with rage. 

"It's dangerous! I know it, you know it and the Professor knows it! I don't want to see you get your brain fried! What is so wrong about that?" Scott threw down one of the grease rags onto the floor in a huff. 

"Can't you expect that the Professor and I **know** what we're doing? We're not a couple of idiotic novices, you know. We have had a degree of schooling and-"

"What are you saying? That because you're a doctor that makes you qualified to liquify your brains?"

"Argh!" _Can not do this now Scott, or so help me I will hurt you in more ways than one. _She began to walk down the corridor that led to their room. 

"Jean! Don't walk away- we're not finished here-" _Can't you see that I only care about you?_

"Oh yes we **are**."

Now it was Scott's turn to sigh. 

~*~*~*~

_I just wanted to try it. There's no conclusive evidence that supports that I can't handle Cerebro, _Jean mused as she began to get undressed for a hot shower. _How can Scott_ _suppose that I wouldn't be careful? That I wouldn't take every precaution! _Jean sighed inwardly. _He's only doing what he's supposed to do- care about you_, she scolded herself. As the hot water pummelled her, she tried to calm herself down. In reality, it felt good to lose her temper again- she spent so much time maintaining her cool, just like Scott. They had both been angry once, mellowed out with age and each other. They had found the ultimate niche for themselves at the school and they were happy. _The perfect time to question it_ she guessed. Resolute to ease things over later, she shut her eyes and let the steam ease her clenched muscles. 

~*~*~*~

__

Shit, shit, shit. I haven't gotten Jean this pissed since… since… since before we were engaged. Damn. That long just to screw up now. Scott busied himself with putting an extra coat of wax on his motorcycle. _At least my second true love isn't that tempermental._ He'd been fooling around with the idea of adding a few more gadgets and gizmos to juice it up when Jean walked in and very composedly announced her intention to start training on Cerebro. _As if it weren't an incredibly powerful and risky machine, as if it were on a par with what was for dinner. So matter-of-factly. _So he objected. Stringently, the way he always did. It weighed on her more now. _Usually she sighs and agrees with me. I'll be damned if I can understand her without the mind link._ He tried to reach out for her mentally, the way she had taught him, but with no success. _Still can't get this crap. She probably shut me out._ _Oh well, I guess we'll talk this through the old fashioned way- more screaming._ _But… later,_ he resolved, and continued to polish his bike. 

~*~*~*~

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Jean replied, looking up from her notes. She was sitting in their bed, wearing only a camisole and silk boxers. Scott was standing in the doorway, tenatively leaning against the doorjamb. "You gonna come in?"

"You gonna bite my head off?"

"Maybe. Guess you'll have to take your chances."

"Guess so," he replied with a smile, and shut the door behind him. _A Jean making lame jokes is better than a non-speaking Jean._

//Who says my jokes are lame?//

"Guess you're linked with me again huh?" Scott said sheepishly blushing. He began to pace the length of their bedroom.

"You bet your fine ass I am," she said, taking off her glasses. She watched him for a moment and then continued, "Would you like to sit down? Over here perhaps?" She gestured to the bed. 

"Scott-"

"Jean-"

//You gonna let me talk or what?// 

"Why don't you start honey?" Scott said, his words dripping with honey.

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere, **darling.** Cerebro."

"Yes."

"You object."

"Yes. As I have said many, many times with damn good reason."

"Yes, with damn good reason. But that was then."

"And this is now? What makes now so different from then? The risk is still there- if anything the stakes are raised," he argued, taking her left hand in his and pointedly fondling her engagement ring.

"You are gonna be a pain in the ass for a husband."

"Yes I am. So you better get used to it."

"Who says that I'll marry a man who bosses me around? I think that that would be a grave error on his part- I could make his life hell on earth."

"No one living with you would be in hell," he said softly, raising her hand to his lips and giving it a soft kiss.

"Oh no, you don't. You will not get out of this by getting mushy on me," Jean replied firmly, removing her hand and glaring at him. _Goddamn he is adorable._ Pushing lust aside for later she continued, "Marriage is about equality, agree?"

A muffled 'yes' escaped the lips that were slowly creeping up her arm. 

"And so, in the interest of equality, couples should make decisions together, discussing them openly and objectively, right?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," said her elbow. 

"And not with one of the said couple trying to use sexual attraction to get the other of the said couple not to experiment with her powers," Jean finished with a gasp.

"Mmmm-hmmm," said her shoulder blade.

"Scott-" she said, taking his hands from their particularly pleasant areas on her body and clasped them in hers. "Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly," he replied huskily. 

Jean stifled a giggle but still held his hands fast. "I'm serious- do you trust me?"

//With all my heart.// Scott telepathed, resting his forehead against hers.

//Then let me do this. Please.//

Scott sighed and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Jean. There is nothing in the world that I wouldn't give you. But why must you do this now? The hearings, the UN summit, finals week-"

"Because if not now, when? We've been putting it off- too scared to risk this-" she gestured at the scant amount of space between them "but I have to try. Even more because of the hearings, and the UN summit."

"Jean, if I were to lose you…"

"Compromise. After the hearings and the summit and finals week. Then I try it. Huh?"

He sighed again and gave her a lopsided grin. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're a pain in the ass but I'm marrying you anyway."

"Why is that I wonder?"

"Because of that-" she kissed the side of his mouth- "extra" –other side- "fiiine gluteus maximus of yours," she finished, firmly planting her lips on his and squeezing that part of his anatomy. 

"Damn I love it when you talk doctor to me," he replied, regaining the use of his hands and using them to his full advantage.

"Well then, Mr. Summers – lose the shirt. I have an examination to perform."

~*~*~*~

"I think," said Jean much later, feeling warm and spent and resting her head on Scott's chest, "that the subject is in perfect physical health."

"Really, now," Scott remarked, lazily stroking her hair. 

"Mmmm-hmmm. I really should get to sleep. Have that speech to do in the morning."

"Don't think about the speech," Scott murmured into the mess of tangled curls. 

"Gonna give me something else to do?" she smiled as her hands slowly made their way south.

"A man must do what a man must do," he replied in kind, taking her head into his hands and kissing her. //You worry too much Jean.//

//I know. Fill me with something else. Please.//

And he obliged. 

~*~*~*~

  


  



	2. Part II

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road, Part II

For disclaimers see part I

Part II Author's Note: I spend some time with the senate because of something that's always bugged me about the movie. At the end, Jean keeps putting Scott off from blasting Magneto. I have no idea what the novelization makes of this but I'm laying the groundwork for what I think her reasons are for later. 

Apologies to Marvel, 20th C Fox and etc for the gratuitous usurping of dialogue. 

Apologies also to the 'shippers: Bear with me- not so much in this installment- Logan lovers- he's coming really, I swear

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xavier's School for the Gifted

Westchester, NY

Scott and Jean's bedroom

6:45 am

Scott rolled over onto Jean's side of the bed to feel it cold. Bringing a hand up to his face, he checked to make sure his sleeping goggles were in place, and finally, groggily, opened his eyes. Readjusting to the dim light of dawn, he blinked several times and slowly sat up, goosepimples breaking out over his exposed chest as the sheet fell down to gather around his waist.

Jean soon emerged from the bathroom, buttoning up a red blazer as she walked to the dresser. "Morning," she smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

"Every day at this time. Though typically much pleasanter later in the day."

"Pleasanter?" she asked, amused.

"It's early, Jean. Cut me some slack," he grumbled, shifting on the bed.

"It's okay," she replied, turning and sitting down on the bed. "I love you when you're grammatically incorrect," she continued huskily, running a careless finger over his chest.

"Hmmm care to teach me a lesson?" he countered, twirling a lock of loose hair from her coif with his fingers.

"Mmmm very intriguing, tempting even, but"

"There's always a but," he sighed, briefly caressing her face before withdrawing his hand.

"But. Today I have bigger fish to fry."

"You're gonna have sex with the entire US Congress?"

"Somethin' like that." Scott's eyebrows went up. "Think my fiancé will mind?"

"Probably. I wouldn't tell him," he grinned.

"Good idea." She kissed him tenderly but briefly and rose from the bed. "The Professor wants to leave at seven so I'd better be getting down there soon. Want to exchange any more feeble witticisms with me before I leave?" she quipped, smoothing out her shoes and double-checking the contents of her purse.

"Don't let them get to you," he said, in the concerned voice he saved only for her. She tried to shrug it off but he knew. _She knows exactly how much they hate us. More than anyone. Can hear the hate in their heads as well as on their lips._ "I mean it, Jean," he rose and went to where she stood by the base of their bed. Taking her face in his hands, he looked directly in her eyes and she stared straight back, in that singular way of hers that made him feel as if she was doing the same even through the goggles. "Don't let them tell you what you are."

"Wasn't planning on it," she replied in all seriousness.

"Don't make them right either. Don't hurl things at the bastards or anything," he smiled, giving her a farewell hug.

_Bastards is right._ "Well if I must" she smiled back. "Guess it's time to be professional again, huh?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

//Liar.// Blowing him a kiss, she walked out into the hallway and shut the door quietly behind her. Scott knew that even as the door was closing Jean herself was probably halfway to the elevator, using that deceptively fast walk of hers. 

_She'll be okay. One little speech, can't be that bad. And Jean knows how to be persuasive she'll set them straight_, he told himself. But he wasn't so sure. Not at all.

~*~*~*~*~

"Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Jean."

"I see you've anticipated me. As usual," she added with a smile. Xavier was waiting by the garage entrance, a canister and a brown paper bag in his lap. 

He saw her eyes stray to his packages and replied, "They're for the journey. Didn't want you to skip breakfast on such an important day."

"Thank you," said Jean with genuine warmth. "Shall we?" She hastened to the Durango's passenger door and opened it, telekinetically pushing back the modified front seat. Using her powers she lifted him into the space, locking the wheelchair into its grooves and making sure the ramp had been stowed for later, when the procedure would have to be accomplished without such advantages. 

As she went around to the drivers side, the Professor frowned. He could feel Jean's anxiety surround his mind. //Jean. Stop worrying. You'll do fine.//

As she turned the key in the ignition, she gave him a weak smile. "Fine may just not be good enough today."

With a grim countenance, he watched the rearview mirror as they pulled out of the driveway. "I know," he murmured. "I know."

~*~*~*~

Eventually they pulled over at a rest stop in Maryland. Conversation had not been much throughout the journey, for both of them were weighted with the consequences of what should happen at the hearings later in the day and spent much time echoing each other's despondent thoughts. But it was then, after having some coffee and half the danish the Professor had packed, that Jean finally broke the question.

"Will **he** be there do you think?"

"If I know him, he'll be there," said the Professor solemnly. "But what he plans to do, that is what escapes me."

"And worries you."

Xavier shot one of his rare smiles at his protégé. "Your powers are growing, Jean. But it is a greater feat to control them, not just cultivate them."

"I know. I'm sorry," Jean blushed, caught in her use of telepathy. 

"What for? Magneto is a fact. We cannot disregard him. Indeed, it would be hazardous if we did." Turning from her, he continued in a low voice, almost to himself, "He'll be there. I'm sure of it." Coming out of his reverie, he added in a more cheery tone, "Well. We ought to get going."

"Yes."

Back on the highway, Xavier asked about the speech she had prepared. 

"It says what needs to be said, answers the questions that they wanted answered. But it's just not persuasive enough. I don't know if any words are. Everywhere we go, we are hated and feared and no amount of smooth phrases is going to change that. I can't reverse years of prejudice with one little speech. But if it doesn't accomplish that, if it doesn't convince enough of the men and women in that room" she trailed off, frustration and desperation evident in her voice as both of them contemplated the consequences they knew all too well.

Her feelings were so violent that they almost made Xavier's senses spin. "But not to try, that would be to fail outright."

"Reasonable enough. That's all it is. That's our only argument and theirs as well. To cohabitate without friction. Utopia. Make certain no one is dangerous to anyone else. Perfect. And we become scapegoats for it all."

"Jean. They do not mean it."

_Oh yes they do_ she thought.

Upon hearing her thoughts, which were almost as plain as the grimace on her face, he frowned. "They do not understand. That is what you must try to do- acquaint them with the fullest circumstances and allow them to understand."

"And if they do not?"

"Then we are right where we started."

_Nowhere and hopelessly lost, lost, lost_ thought Jean as she followed the signs to their exit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xavier's School

12:45 pm

Scott's morning class had just got out when Ororo came to meet him in the garage. "I have it on in the common room, if you want to watch. Jean has been talking for almost an hour now," she informed him.

"How's it going?" he asked anxiously.

"I do not know. But it seems like she is coming to an end soon and we will see what they will say," Ororo replied solemnly, and waiting at the door for him to wipe off his hands, walked with him down the corridor to the common room.

_Please let it be going well-for all our sakes'_ he hoped.

The television was set to C-SPAN and front and center on the screen was Jean, wearing her glasses and speaking in a clear, defined voice:

"DNA. It is the basic building block of evolution- changes in our DNA are the reason we have evolved from single-celled organisms to homo-sapiens."

She was flicking through her progression-of-man slides with the precision of someone utterly at ease with their subject and their surroundings. But Scott, whose eyes remained intent upon her face, could see otherwise. _She's terrified. She doesn't think she's getting through to them_

"Within our DNA are the genes that decide our physical characteristics: our eye color," she said with the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips, "our height, and so forth."

Scott sneered back. He had been privy to the "eye color" comment when she was formulating her ideas for the speech. She had planned on using it as a metaphor for recessive and dominant traits- brown over blue, that sort of thing. She had asked him what he thought about it- if it would work- as if he knew about speechmaking. She had just wanted a comment from him, captive audience, so to speak, but he froze up. Stone cold.

He was insecure about his eyes, he knew that. Can't be a leader without analyzing your own weaknesses, he had explained to Jean later when she had forced him to talk about it. The one thing that could mess with his perfect equilibrium and hard-won confidence: the destructive power behind his eyes. Jean's eyes were the most beautiful, most perfect things he would ever see, he was sure of that. And Jean would never know what it was into his. Sure, she could stare him down but always with his glasses on. She would only know that they were blue because that's what he remembered, what he told her. She cut that part of the speech out after that conversation, a "concession to those embarrassed about silly things like recessive traits like blue eyes and false weaknesses." _Damn, she knows me too well._

"When these active genes mutate, we see changes in the body. These evolutionary changes are subtle, and generally take thousands of years."

"Here it comes," he remarked to Ororo, watching anxiously on the couch beside him, gripping the remote control tightly.

"In recent years, and for reasons which are still a mystery, we have seen this latent DNA in our bodies mutating. These mutations manifest at puberty and are often triggered by periods of heightened emotional stress."

The camera panned onto the audience, murmuring amongst themselves. The camera showed a close up of a man identified at the base of the screen as Senator Kelly, Republican of Kansas, who was in deep conversation with a man who appeared to be an aide. 

"The new DNA strands caused by the mutations are producing some, admittedly, startling results."

More murmurs amongst the crowd. Scott and Ororo shot one another concerned looks and Scott shifted in his seat. Leaning forward, he remained transfixed to the television as Jean continued:

"In other words, this previously unused DNA is not 'junk' DNA at all but rather a vast storehouse which contains the almost limitless potential for human advancement." Jean paused, as if waiting for the background noise to cease, but it did not. She kept on, this time with a louder voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now seeing the beginnings of another stage of human evolution. Not a new race of creature to be feared, but rather the opportunity to find advancement within us all! It is not in anyone's best interests to pass a bill which would not only deprive others of basic human rights but also would deter science and the common good. The Mutant Registration Bill -"

"Ah, yes, the bill. Finally something relevant," said Kelly, arising from his seat. 

_Sonofabitch, _Scott thought, scowling at Kelly's projected face. He saw Jean's face contort for a brief second with what he knew to be contained rage and digust before returning to its typical serene countenance. _Good girl but so help me, **I** want to punch his face in_

"Senator, I have not yet finished" Jean began but got no further before he interrupted her again.

"Yes, yes, the cartoons were very interesting. Educational. However, it fails to answer the larger issue. The issue that is the focus of this hearing- three words: are mutants dangerous?" he asked mockingly, gesturing with a handful of papers. 

"That is an unfair question, Senator. The wrong person behind the wheel of a car can be dangerous," Jean countered. 

"He is the one who is dangerous. Unprincipled, prejudiced minds always are," Ororo rebuked the screen, angry. 

"Sonofabitch!" Scott muttered.

"Yes, Ms. Grey, but we license people to drive," he waved his finger at her. 

"Yes, **Mister** Kelly, but not to live," she retorted in kind.

"I can't watch this anymore," said Scott, disgusted, as he watched Kelly continue to parade around the floor of the Senate, now reading from his list of 'registered mutants.' "Sonofabitchin' Nazi asshole." 

"Where are you going?" Ororo asked from the couch as he was leaving, not wanting to miss the end of Jean's speech time. "It is not over yet."

"Yes it is. It was a done deal before she ever even got to speak," he replied wearily, and left the room to go work out in the gym. _At least I can punch the living daylights out of your effigy, Senator Kelly_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Somewhere in Maryland

On the road again, Jean tried to will her muscles to relax. Her muscles refused to listen and remained stiff and achy. The Professor was determined to rest on the drive home and was quietly sleeping next to her in the passenger seat. She glanced over at him and sighed, wishing that she could rest too. Not trusting herself to telekinetically steer, she instead replayed the events of that afternoon again in her head for the hundredth-odd time, searching vainly for some measure of hope:

~*~*~*~  
Earlier, in Washington

After she was politely asked to relinquish the podium by the Vice President, Jean paced the hallway in front of the Senate chamber, fuming with barely contained rage at Kelly and his followers. _Interrupted me, ridiculed me, belittled me and my work_ AUGH! She continued to pace until the Professor arrived, his face grave. 

"It's useless. I can't believe that I have stood in the center of democracy and seen such hypocrites!" she cried as way of greeting.

He smiled benevolently at her. //Jean. Calm down. We don't want to make a scene.//

Pursing her lips tightly together, she refrained from comment. //Let's go then, Professor. I don't trust myself to hold out much longer.//

As they began to head in the direction of the exit, some of the members of the Senate began filing out of the doors. 

"Ms. Grey!" an all too familiar voice called her from behind. 

She turned and met the eyes of Senator Kelly. _Greasy, slimey, no good, friggin'_ "Yes?" she replied curtly.

He came up to her after nodding at some colleagues and then continued, "A very nice speech, even though it consisted mostly of contrived fiction."

As expostulations rose to her lips and her hands at her sides balled into fists, she heard the Professor repeat: //Jean. Do not let him rile you. Do not permit a scene. It is want he wants. To deny him that is to go with grace and the upperhand.//

"Just out of curiosity, Ms. Grey, what are you?" he asked nastily.

"Pardon?" she replied through clenched teeth.

"You are a mutant aren't you? That's why you defend them. What's your dirty little secret?" he lowered his voice in pitch but his words cut like a knife.

"Perhaps. Do you always consider those who disagree with you to be mutants? I assure you, Senator, many wise men and women can and do, without the benefit of a better gene pool."

"Not better. Wrong. Wrong in the eyes of God, unnatural."

"Wrong in your eyes, perhaps. But not God. Not nature. Not science. You, sir, are no one." 

"Perhaps," he sneered back, mocking her. "But I will see the end of you and your kind, of that you can be sure."

"I'll believe it- when I see it." //Jean// the Professor rebuked. "Good day, Senator," she said sharply before turning on her heels in a brisk, almost military 180, and stalked off to the exit doors where the Professor was waiting. 

~*~*~*~

Somewhere in New York

Jean grimaced again, and steadying the wheel with one hand, rubbed the back of her neck with the other. _What a long day_. _And if Kelly hadn't been bad enough, there was Magneto._

The Professor had talked to him, she was sure of that. And when she mentioned the anonymous distinguished looking older gentlemen who had wished her luck before the proceedings, the Professor just shook his head. "Eric," he had said with a sigh. She had seen the man in the balcony seats during her speech. Every time she glanced his direction, she saw him not looking at her but at Kelly and some of the other Senators. The Professor said he was planning something. Something of importance. 

Moving her head from side to side to help relieve the tension, or to at least try to, she wondered about his relationship with the Professor. They were friends once, and still seemed to maintain vestiges of that friendship. Both seemed to be wanting the same things: independence, safe haven for mutants, for the bill not to pass. Yet there was something sinister about him before she had knew who he was, when he had merely brushed by her in the green room, she had felt chills down her spine. 

She sighed again and wished she were home. _Anywhere but here,_ she thought as she watched the skies become darker and the sun set below the distant hills. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC 


	3. Part III

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road Part III

For disclaimers see part I.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xavier's School

Kitchen

7:32 pm

"Hey."

"Hey," Jean turned around and smiled at Scott as he entered the kitchen. "Thought you were intent on beating the shit outta someone."

"Says who?" he asked, sitting down at the table, watching her scoop ice cream into a small dish.

" 'Ro. Said you left near the end of the hearings and stayed in the gym ever since. Teach that punching bag a lesson, huh?" she added mockingly, licking off her spoon and closing the lid on the ice cream carton.

"Wouldn't of hurt you to stop by to say you were back," he grumbled. 

"Knew you would be there- didn't want to disturb-"

"Jean-"

"Scott. You got upset, right? Did you really want me to barge in there and start it all up again before you got it out of your system?" she sat down with a thud across from him. 

He sighed. _Goddamn it, she's right._ _Probably would have bit her head off._ "Bad as it looked, huh?"

She grimaced, lifting up a spoonful of ice cream. "Worse."

_Sonofabitch._

//I heard that.// Jean telepathed, her mouth full of ice cream.

"It's his new nickname. Didn't I tell you?"

"No, but I guess he had it coming. Do I need to order another punching bag?" She lifted up another spoonful.

"Didn't blast this one," he said sheepishly.

"Kay," she said complacently licking off her spoon.

"You don't have to play it cool with me, Jean," he said. "I know the guy was an asshole"

Jean frowned and rolled her eyes excessively, shoveling more ice cream into her mouth.

"Don't shut me out," he said, coming over to her side of the table. "I might not be telepathic but when the Double Fudge Brownie comes out and you're not beatific, something is wrong." He lifted up her chin so that she would focus her gaze on him, not the bowl. 

She swallowed slowly and took his hand in hers. With a brief but warm caress, she released it and murmured, "I'm sorry. Scott, I'm so sorry," she added with a gasp, and with tears welling up in her eyes, left the room in a rush. 

_Fuck._ Scott tossed her spoon back into the bowl. Putting both in the sink to do later, he quickly made his way to their bedroom where he knew he'd find her. Just as he knew she'd be in the kitchen stuffing her face with comfort food. When Jean got upset, or angry, she immediately regretted it. He spent most of their courtship on a rollercoaster ride of emotions, between Jean getting pissy about something and then being overly amorous and penitent to make up for it. And he knew why she left. She was on the point of breakdown, he could tell. And no one, no one, sees Jean Grey as anything but composed. He supposed it was similar to his own personality, his own mantra: a leader never shows weakness, never lets them see you bleed. They made a nice pair, the kids would scoff, the ice lady and the fearless leader. But the kids didn't know the uncertainity, the struggle, the precarious balance that went on behind closed doors. _Opposing forces hurtling at one another at light speeds only to cancel each other out in the light of day_, he remembered Jean saying once. She always had a thing for science. 

As he approached their door, he could feel her despair, her anger and her grief through their link. Opening and closing the door behind him quietly, he beheld Jean, sprawled across their bed, a pillow pressed against her face to muffle her sobs. 

He approached her, sat down next to her on the bed, and stroked her back. "Jean, honey, it wasn't **that** bad."

Jean cried harder into the pillow. 

_Damn. Maybe I shouldn't have phrased it that way._ "We all knew that it couldn't change things overnight."

"Mmmfff," said the pillow, between sobs. Scott could feel her trembling underneath his fingers as another shudder went through her. 

"Will you talk to me? Please?" Scott asked.

The tenderness in his voice washed over her and she desperately wanted to cry even harder, except that she had no more tears left to weep. _I let them down. I let them all down. We're all going to be lost_ was all she could think since she had gotten home. All the students who greeted her in the halls, Charles, Ororo, Scott. Especially Scott. How would the Senate react if they knew their guest speaker was betrothed to a man who shot lasers out of his eyes? _Lock him up and throw away the key. No amount of words or speeches can save himsave us save the school_

"Jean. Please?" Scott's voice pleaded over the endless roaring in her ears. 

She raised her head from the pillow, raising her hands to her face in an attempt to brush away her tears. "Oh Scott," she half murmured, half sobbed, and buried her head in his chest, wanting desperately just to bury herself in his warmth, and goodness, and acceptance, and never resurface.

He clutched her to him, feeling the moisture from her face seep through his shirt. There couldn't be anything more heartbreaking than to see this woman, this strong capable woman who he loved more than life itself, helpless and fragile. When he had first met her, he was drawn to the personality she projected, this amazing, unrelenting force to be reckoned with, unbeatable, wonderful, perfect. But he loved her because she wasn't that character- not all the time. _Not now._

"He knows what I am," she said softly into his shirt, feeling his arms tighten around her. 

"He will **never** know **who** you are," Scott said through clenched teeth.

"Kelly knows I'm a mutant. Probably assumes you are, Xavier the school. Scott, what will happen to the kids?"

"It won't go that far."

"Yes, yes, it will."

//Scott//

_Oh damn. Not now, Professor._ He grimaced into Jean's hair.

//It's important. A rescue mission.//

Jean looked up, having heard the Professor and Scott's response. "I'll be fine. Just go- the mission, it's more important."

He held her face in his hands for a moment, and after kissing each tear-stained cheek, whispered, "Nothing is more important than you. Nothing."

"I'm fine," she repeated, this time adding a weak smile. "I'll wait up for you."

"Sure?" he said, rising and already readjusting to battle readiness. 

"Scott Summers, if you don't leave this room in the next ten seconds"

"Gone." And with a quick smile, he was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC

Next time meeting the wild man! J 

  



	4. Part IV

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road Part IV

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and stuff: see part I. 

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Scott and Jean's Bedroom

10:25 pm

Jean sat idly on the bed, making circles with her ankles and trying to make her headache go away through sheer will. Giving up, she tk-ed a bottle of Advil and a glass of water to herself, and then set them aside on the nightstand. 

She then began to replay the parts of the day she had not told Scott about. Or the Professor, for that matter.

She knew Magneto was there. Sensed his presence, oddly familiar and shockingly sympathetic. The only other non-hostile ear in the entire hearing besides the Professor. Well, at least not hostile towards _her_. 

He had an indefinable relationship with Xavier, that was certain. Whether it remained a friendship, she didn't know. Xavier didn't hate him, she was sure. But he definitely disagreed with him. There was a respect of equals, or something akin to that, she supposed. A mutual agreement to disagree. 

Despite everything that Magneto had done, he wasn't an evil man. He just believed in violent means to get his way. Which was the same cause that the Professor was fighting for, just differently. The right way. Without cost to human life. Xavier wasn't vindictive. He was moralistic. Sometimes too moralistic to be palatable. 

She was slowly coming to realize that it was rubbing off, on her, on Scott. They hadn't used to follow him unquestioningly. There were days of uncertainty, of hatred, of wanting to shove their hypocritical prejudice down all their nasty throats. Teaching had changed that. Probably aging too. She didn't know if it was wiser, but she knew it was what she had to do. She had to be strong, she had to teach the kids the better way to handle their situation, one that was always precarious and would only get worse if they were provoked into some kind of quasi-war. 

She sighed and wondered if she could make it all disappear. About as futile as trying to will a migraine away. Too tired to even change out of her clothes, she curled up into a ball and tried to catch a few hours rest before they came back from the rescue mission. _No rest for the weary_.

3:23 am

Scott's voice awoke her. She raised herself to a half-sitting position and hazily looked about the dark room before realizing that he had spoken through their 'link. 

//Jean. We're almost there. Get the med-lab ready.//

//Sure know how to wake a gal up. On my way.//

She swung her legs wide off the side of the bed and stared at her toes in the moonlight for a few seconds. _Just one night, one **full** night's sleep, that's all I ask for._ Shaking out her tangled hair, more to help her fully regain her senses, she stood up and padded into the bathroom. After splashing some water on her face and tying her hair back into an efficient ponytail, she left to go to the lab. 

She had just gotten out the last tray of implements when she heard the jet's engines roaring a few doors down. _Our guests have arrived._ She walked down the corridor to meet Scott who was carrying a large man in his arms. 

"Table Two is open," she said as way of greeting, and partially tk-ed the body as she walked ahead of him, lessening the weight in his arms. 

"There's a girl she's with Storm," he said through clenched teeth. The man was very heavy- though it did appear to be all muscle mass.

"Is she hurt?"

"No, just shaken." He placed the man on the table with her telekinetic help and let out his breath. "What a night."

"Hmmm I should check on her." Jean said turning to leave after assessing that the man was stable for now. 

He approached her at the door and gently pushed a stray hair out of her eyes. "Get any sleep?"

"Not much."

"Doesn't show."

"Uh-huh," she replied, not convinced in the least.

He pressed a gloved hand to his chest, pantomiming extreme pain. She pursed her lips, a smile half-beginning. 

He rested his forehead on hers and said, "You always did look good in red."

"Not as good as you in leather, hot pants." She gave him a quick smack on the lips and a playful whack on his posterior. "You had better go upstairs you have class in a few hours."

"Yes, Dr. Grey," he replied obediently, a smirk gracing his lips.

She just shook her head as she walked off to find the girl. Storm was disembarking from the jet, followed by a young girl, her face obscured by the large hood of her green cape.

"Rogue, this is Dr. Jean Grey," Storm said with an elegant wave of her hand. 

"Pleased to meet you, Rogue," she tried, holding out my hand to the non-responsive teen, who glanced at her hand for a few seconds before looking away. 

_No reaction. Great. Lovely start_. She nodded to Storm, who clearly is desperate to return to her bed for the few precious hours of sleep left before her history class in the morning. _Not so for the Lucky Miss Grey. She gets to stay up all hours. _

As Storm walks off, the girl lifts her head. _Pretty little thing, really. Probably as tired as the rest of us. _"Come on," she motioned with her hand to follow. "Let's get you settled." Rogue followed reluctantly behind as she led her down the corridor. 

She seemed timid and frightened enough that Jean knew through harsh experience that starting with the med exam would be over the limit. Doing the quick, invasive mind scan could tell her all she needed to know but she settled on more human instincts- she could hear the girl's stomach rumbling.

Jean led her to the kitchen. "How about something to eat? Why don't you look in the fridge to see if there's anything in there you'd like me to heat up for you?"

Rogue nodded solemnly, and after pulling her hood back, stared at the contents of the fridge for seconds before hauling out half its contents. Jean raised an eyebrow and the girl gave her a ghost of a smile, mumbling in a deep Southern voice, "Ah just want a sandwich."

Jean got her a plate and some silverware and she did the rest. Piling bread high with meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickles and almost every condiment we had, she created a small tower, which she devoured in half the time it took to create. 

"I guess you were hungry," Jean said, surveying the empty plate a few moments later.

She nodded as she gulped down the last of her milk. "Ah don't usually eat like that- haven't had a real decent meal in days."

"It's all right. We have plenty more," Jean said reassuringly, leaning against the sinks. 

Rogue looked at her quizzically from the table and finally took off the cape. Jean noticed the long gloves but remained silent.

"They said this was a school."

"It is. Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted."

"For freaks," she said quietly into her empty glass.

"No. No one here is a freak. That kind of language is not tolerated here," Jean replied sternly- perhaps too much so, because the girl looked up, startled. "Everyone here is like you- trying to find where they fit in the world, how to live with and utilize their gifts."

"Are you ?"

"Yes," she replied with a smile, and tk-ed her plate and glass to the sink.

Rogue stood up quickly from the table and looked back and forth from me to the table in shock. 

"I'm telekinetic. I can move things with my mind," Jean replied to her inevitable question. "What about you?" she asked carefully. 

Rogue shifted her weight and looked away, nervous again. "Ah don't know, really. Things happen when people touch my skin. Bad things"

"The gloves," Jean said, with a nod toward those accessories, now laying on the table.

"Yeah."

"When did it start? The bad things?"

"Few weeks ago. Ah don't want to talk about it," Rogue said quietly but firmly.

"Okay. Okay," Jean replied calmly. "You should get settled in. Finished?" she asked, taking the empty glass from the table.

Rogue nodded yes, and rose from the table. Jean led the way out of the kitchen toward the dormitory rooms. 

After going through a maze of hallways, Jean finally paused and opened one door for her, waiting for Rogue to enter first. The girl was hesitant as she stood outside looking into the dark room.

"This is mah room?"

"It can be, if you like," Jean said flicking on the lights. It illuminated a small room with a bed, wardrobe and desk. Rogue entered it and glanced at the bare cream walls.

"There's a bathroom down the hall- you'll have to share it with some other girls," Jean explained. "There's some extra clothes, blankets and pillows in the wardrobe if you need them."

"What's gonna happen to me?" Rogue asked quietly.

"Nothing that you don't want to," Jean replied, looking her in the eyes. "After you've rested and had breakfast, you can meet the Professor."

"The Professor?"

"Yes. Professor Xavier. This is his school. He likes to meet all his students. He'll set up your class schedule if you'd like to stay."

Rogue nodded abstractly still looking around at her new surroundings.

"Well. Get some sleep," Jean said with a smile, and turned to leave.

"Wait. Logan the man I came in with is he? Is he okay?"

"He will be fine. He had a strong pulse despite the bruising"

"He can't be hurt. Ah saw him he has metal between his fingers and heals real fast he's one too" she said staring at her hands.

"Metal in his hands?"

"Yeah- like three sharp knives between the knuckles stick out. You can't see em cuz he just"

"Just what?"

"No blood. No scars. Just skin. Like nothin' happened."

"Hmmm I'll see you in a few hours. Try and get some sleep." Jean silently closed the door to her room and began her walk back to the lab._ This was puzzling. Remarkable healing ability? Metal shooting out of his hands? The institute wasn't dull, she'd give it that. What was going on now?_

TBC


	5. Part V

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road 

Part Five/?

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see parts 1 -4. Oh yeah, and Logan FINALLY appears. I wasn't lying- hah. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The MedLab

9:13 am

Jean approached the man's body, her heels tapping on the hard floor of the lab. The first class of the day was three quarters over by now, she guessed, setting down a tray with syringes and cotton swabs. It had been a long morning so far, and she silently thanked the Professor for his block scheduling: at least she wouldn't have to teach class today.

She had spent a couple hours running the girl through the standard tests, physical and psychological and was still processing the data. As the computer would configure the limitations of the girl's mutation, Jean decided to check in on her other patient.

He was a far more intriguing and unknown entity. Self-healing? Well, it seemed to be true. For all the girl's talk about barroom brawls, there wasn't so much a scratch on him. He seemed to be perfectly healthy, though not awake yet. A fine physical specimen, she appraised clinically, eyeing his muscle mass. _A bit hairy, but not without its charms. No wonder the girl seemed so taken in with her companion._

She crossed to his opposite side out of habit, always working on the left, non-dominant side. She lifted his arm and ran her fingers curiously over his knuckles. Spikes from between his fingers? Wasn't that what the girl had said? She had never heard of a mutation like that and she certainly didn't feel anything underneath the skin, no protrusions, no marks, no scarring

_How was that possible?!_

With no effort, she tk-ed a syringe and some gauze to herself, shaking off her amazement. There was no place for it here and now; she was a doctor and she had ought to do her work. She had neglected him for far too long and she hoped that his sleep was natural and without repercussions. But even as a doctor, professionality waned as wonderment took over. A man who could heal himself. The implications were spell-binding: one could never age, never spoil, never wrinkle, would one even feel much pain?

As her reveries continued, her hands went about the methodical work of preparing a requisite blood sample. Would she even be able to puncture the skin? Or would the small prick seal up automatically?

Caught up in her thoughts, it took her by surprise when the hand squeezed her throat. Gasping, choking, her hands clutched at his iron grip. She couldn't think, she couldn't speak. She was pressed tightly between his body and the cold metal table- she was overwhelmed with his strength, his closeness to her, the unflinching hand at her throat.

_Don't kill me, please don't kill me, please_

He let go of her abruptly and bolted out the door. Sinking to the floor, Jean coughed and held her throat, breathing deeply through her nose. 

//Professor- the man is awake. And he's violent.//

//Where is he now Jean?//

//I don't know- he's left the MedLab.//

//I'll handle it. When you're ready, please meet me in my office. Bring Ororo and Scott with you.//

//Yes, Professor.//

Still breathing deeply and hesitant to remove her hand, still protectively hovering near her throat, she shrugged out of her lab coat. 

//Scott.//

She could feel his confusion: he hated being telepathed to in the middle of a class- he hated having his lectures interrupted so violently that he lost his train of thought. He claimed it made him look like a fool in front of the students, as if he was forever forgetting things. 

//Go to the Professor's office after class.// She telepathed quickly, and after brushing herself off and double-checking her appearance, she left the MedLab to find Ororo's history classroom. 

Jean got to the room just as the bell rang. Students came rushing out, off to their next class. Ororo smiled as she saw Jean.

"Did you go to sleep yet?" she asked, wiping down the blackboard from her last class.

"No. The Professor would like to see us," Jean replied in a soft voice, as the students began to trickle into the room for second period.

"Okay. Is the man awake?"

Jean nodded affirmative and led the way to the Professor's office. Scott came down the hall after them. 

//What's this about, Jean?//

//The new mutant. He's a little high-strung.//

//Can't wait to meet him.// he sarcastically replied over their link, dodging a few young girls dashing into another classroom.

//Promise me something.//

//Anything.//

//Don't be provoked.//

Scott was at a loss how to reply to her request. He followed the women down the hall and kept silent. _As if I can be provoked. I'm easy-going most of the time. So the new guy's a bit high-strung. Normal for someone who's just been radically relocated by jet overnight._

He entered the room as the Professor was making introductions.

" and this is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops."

The man appeared to be somewhat skeptical. He raised a very hairy eyebrow and pointed a finger at Ororo. "Storm. Cyclops," he repeated, disdain dripping with every word. _Like I don't know that it's a stupid name or heard that one too many times already. Hell, even Jean's been known to snicker at it and it was her idea!_

"Whadda they call you, Wheels?"

_Well, that's just disrespectful._ Scott cultivated a poker face as the Professor continued to explain what for all of them was normal, everyday facts: the school was filled with mutant children, Magneto was an evil mutant with whom to be reckoned _yadda yadda yadda_. He tried to concentrate on what he was going to show the kids in Shop once he left the impromptu conference. 

The man seemed fairly fed up. He was approaching the door. Well, until the Professor says so, good luck, buddy, cuz you have to get through me.

"Cyclops, right?" he hissed nastily. God he has bad breath. Grabbing Scott's shirt, he pulled him forward, the better to throw him across the room. "Mind getting out of my way?"

Scott repressed an instinct to fight back. Not only because of Jean's earlier warning and his promise, but he somehow believed that he would be hard pressed in hand to hand combat with the stranger. He was very large. He satisfied himself with a glare over the man's shoulder at Jean, who was at the Professor's side. //This is what you call a **little** high-strung?!//

"It's been ten years, hasn't it, Logan?"

The man's (Logan's?) grip slackened and he whirled around on the Professor with a snarled "Shut up!" He seemed feral, out of control. _One hell of an understatement, Jean._

//Thank you, Scott. That was very manly of you.//

//You owe me. Big time.//

//Later, hotpants.//

TBC


	6. Part VI

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road

Part Six/?

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"How about a tour? Scott, Ororo- I know you have classes to teach. You're dismissed," the Professor said with a smile at Scott. "Jean, perhaps later Logan will consent to an examination. I'm sure you have enough to keep you busy in the meantime."

"Yes, Professor." The X-Men left the room single-file and left the Professor with the man, each hoping the conference would succeed in convincing him of the good faith in which he was brought to the school. 

_An ally? Perhaps. A nuisance, definitely_, confirmed Scott, thoroughly annoyed at being late to the Shop. _He was a man born to break with conformity. He was disrespectful, crass, loud- a large bulk of a man with physical prowess but little else to recommend him._ Ororo maintained a calm acceptance while Scott fumed as they talked over lunch.

"Where is he now?"

"With Jean," Scott replied sourly, stabbing his meatloaf. "Testing."

"Ah," Ororo said enigmatically, sipping her water. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It does not mean anything," she said, shaking her head and slowly rising from her chair. "Come on, lunch is almost over." _It must be reassuring to Jean that he can still get jealous over her_, Ororo mused, watching her friend deposit the remains of his half-eaten lunch in the trash. _Frustrating, but reassuring_, she amended, glancing over at his fixed grimace.

"He's going to make trouble, 'Ro, I **know** it," he said, crushing his soda can and tossing it into the recycle bin.

"You do not **know** that. Besides, he could be a great help. He has experience in fighting- precisely what we do **not **have," she said in hushed tones as they began to make their way into the student-populated hallways.

"Yeah- _dirty_ fighting," Scott mumbled petulantly, unable to counter Ororo's remark. They didn't have experience, he knew that. In fact, he was the one who most frequently complained about it to the Professor. _They needed to be more professional. Outfits and gadgets could only go so far_

"And don't worry about Jean," Ororo said by way of goodbye.

"Who's worried?" he replied after her, not very convinced himself. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So what the hell does this thing do?" 

It was the eighth time he had posed the question since they had begun, each time pointing suspicious fingers at various pieces of equipment in the lab, eyes narrowed as if, at any moment, the saline IV stand could attack him within an inch of his life. Jean wondered that a man who couldn't remember when he was born but seemed old enough and wise enough in the ways of the world to get by, couldn't understand the necessity or the purpose of an X-ray. 

Then again, it wasn't everyday that one met a mutant whose powers of regeneration meant that they could have their head split open and then reattach itself without any residual damage. (Which would explain the white-coat syndrome- not a lot of experience around doctors.) Or that fully grown mutants came into her lab. What with the increased class sizes at the school she was beginning to believe herself the first pediatric mutant specialist. 

With slight irritation entering her voice, she explained the technology behind the MRI scanner, arranging the necessary wires as she spoke and checking the connections with their receptors on his bare chest. 

They had almost finished all the tests and Jean was thankful. She was dying to get off her feet for a few minutes (_why the hell had she kept her heels on this long anyway?)_ close her eyes and let the world drift away _After a big late lunch, that is_, uncomfortably recalling her empty stomach. 

"I'm sorry, about before if I hurt you." He gestured vaguely to her neck, finishing his oh-so-heartfelt apology with a grunt.

She smiled slightly, an _it's-all-right _by way of an _watch-it-next-time-buster-teacherly_ kind of expression. Worked in her classroom with the class clowns all the time. 

Class clown that was exactly what he was, coupled with a healthy dose of testosterone and animalistic preservation instincts. He could be dangerous- he **was** dangerous, if Rogue was to be believed, and there was no cause to doubt. So why the hell did she feel so charmed? 

A rakish grin spread on his face. "Anything to get my shirt off, huh?"

_Charmed no more_, she thought angrily, and hit the control to start the machine harder than strictly necessary, rather pleased with herself as he jerked back, the grin no longer in evidence. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"No running!" Scott called out half-heartedly down the hall, after almost being knocked down by several enthusiastic students just set loose from their last class of the day. He leaned back on the doorframe and folded his arms, watching Ororo straighten up her papers on her desk.

"Good class?"

"It went well enough. If Bobby and John do not stop fooling around in class, we are going to have to separate them," she said shaking her head. 

"Eh, boys will be boys. Jean'll set 'em straight in chemistry tomorrow," he said, knowing how his girlfriend could set terror into her students as easily as she could charm them.

Ororo smiled and looked up at him. "I'm sure she will. Have you spoken to her yet?"

"No- actually I was wondering if you had seen her around," he replied, worry creeping into his voice. He hated it when she overdid things- which was practically a daily concern, now that he thought about it. No time to stop. Breathe. Sleep. Eat. 

"I think the lab results just got back. The professor mentioned he would be going downstairs to see Logan's test scores."

"I guess that means she hasn't slept yet."

"Probably not." Ororo brushed past him, her hand lightly straying on his shoulder. "She will rest. Do not worry so much," she said kindly, disappearing down an adjacent hallway to go to her own room.

__

Well then. I guess I'll go sit in for the verdict with the professor, he mused, walking a little faster than strictly necessary to get to the downstairs elevator.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jean had finished briefing the Professor, who seemed to be lost deep in his own thoughts after hearing the results of the testing. Scott himself didn't know what to make of it all- healing powers, adamantium skeleton? If he hadn't considered Logan a threat before, he certainly did now. 

Jean merely sighed and peeled off her lab coat, carefully folding it over a metal lab chair. She rubbed her eyes with one hand, pinching the bridge of her nose. "God, what a long day." 

As if to compliment her sighed comment, her stomach rumbled. Scott's head jerked up from its former position of contemplating his folded hands in his lap, concern writ on his face. "Have you eaten yet today?"

"Scott-" His name came out past her lips as a weary, defeatist whine. _The same old argument, dragged out once more_, she thought disgustedly, for pride's sake remaining immobile, half-perched on the x-ray table and refusing her body's urges to run bolting to the kitchen straight-away. 

"Jean- you promised!"

"I got tied up. I'm sorry," she said insincerely, hopping down from her precarious perch. She began to go to the door and noticed him still fixed in his chair. "I'm going now- you want to come along? Keep me honest?"

"I suppose someone has to," he sighed and joined her at the door. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he said, running a finger across her lower lip. 

She smiled enchantingly up at him. "Why else would I do it?"

He reluctantly smiled back, giving her a slight shove through the doorway. "Double-time, missy. You're going to eat if I have to shovel the food into your mouth." When her grin grew wider, flashed over her shoulder as she click-clacked her way down the sterile hallway, he added, "And don't think that any amount of hip-wiggling is going to stop me from being firm."

"Mr. Summers, what a strict disciplinarian you are."

"I learned from the best, Miss Grey."

"So pithy, Scott," she said, entering the elevator.

"I can't be witty all the time," he said, pressing the button for the ground floor. 

"Eh, you make up for it with that Summer's charm," she said, savoring their precious seconds alone and draping her arms around his neck, leaving her lips hovering above his.

"What Summer's charm? You always told me there was none," he said, lips wriggling with mirth.

"Not all charms are personality," she said, giving him a quick smack on the lips "hotpants," and a quick smack somewhere else before the doors re-opened and she sauntered out past him, triumphantly swaggering as she walked towards the kitchen. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC


	7. Part VII

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road

Part Seven/?

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.

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"There. Happy now?" Jean displayed her dish, clean with the exception of crumbs and a gooey puddle of mayonnaise in the upper left corner. 

"Immeasurably," Scott smirked back at her, shoving the last potato chip into his mouth. Both too tired to join the students in the cafeteria, and both not really wanting to in the first place, they had snuck into the kitchen to make themselves a couple of sandwiches and get some peace and quiet.

Which would have happened, if it had not been for the students who didn't want to go to the cafeteria either (which if it wasn't a majority, sure seemed like it to them). 

Logan had walked in as they were cleaning up. "Hey- Jean, was it? Professor X wants me to get settled in," he said, leaning up against the refrigerator. "Guess I'll be staying around for a little bit."

"Be still my beating heart," Scott mumbled sarcastically from the sink, low enough for only Jean to hear.

Or so he thought. 

"I'm happy for you too, cupcake," Logan rejoined, forcing Scott out of sheer shock to drop the dish he was drying back into the soapy sink with a clang. Jean hid her laughter, turning her face into her shoulder. "So, do I get to sleep in the infirmary again or what?"

Scott was about to tell him exactly where he could _go_, but Jean's hand on his forearm silenced him. "I'll show him upstairs."

"This way," she said, brushing past Logan through the tight space between the countertop and the fridge. His eyes widened and his lips formed a salacious "o" shape. Waggling his eyebrows at Scott, he followed behind her obediently, leaving behind one very irate mutant to deal with the dishes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"In here," Jean said, opening the door to a corner bedroom. Logan raised his eyebrows speculatively and entered the room before her, enjoying the second moment of the night wherein he had gotten to brush by her in extreme proximity. He surveyed the room, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and rocking ever so slightly on the balls of his feet. It was serviceable enough, he supposed. A lot nicer than some of the dives he had formerly stayed in, that was for sure. 

She moved to a cupboard to show him sheets, clothes and extra toiletries like toothpaste and shaving cream. He wanted desperately to say something, to make her stay in the room longer than her cursory walk-through, just to smell her expensive perfume. 

Jean for her part was torn. The man Logan was regarding her with intense curiosity, an occurrence she was familiar with what with the raging male hormones of certain students. But he was far from a fledgling schoolboy with a crush on a teacher. This was a fully-grown and fully formed, strapping bulk of a man, not too hard on the eyes (except for the hairy bit) the intensity was unnerving. 

Extremely flattering, intriguing even. Tempting to a certain degree.

Unnerving in the extreme, to be sure. She was on her way to a hasty exit when the cockiness resurfaced and he asked her, as she knew he would, where her room was.

"Down the hall with Scott."

He didn't seem too impressed by the delineation laid out for him and continued to hold her in conversation, inquiring after her mutation.

She slammed the cabinet shut behind him and was gratified by his shocked swivel backward to marvel at what she had done. "I can move things with my mind," she replied, a bit cocky herself, feeling her lips curve into a smile. "I also have some telepathic ability."

"Like your professor?"

"But nowhere near as powerful," she demurred, looking down and remembering her previous conversation with Scott about Cerebro. 

Logan smiled and she felt her stomach clench, her breath momentarily lost in the awe of his face, insufferably smug and yet so appealing

"Read my mind."

He stared her down, willing her to look at him and she felt her cheeks suffuse with heat under his gaze. She didn't need to be telepathic to read what he had in mind. 

"I can't."

"Come on, try it," he egged her on huskily, stepping forward, closing in, getting strategic inches closer to his goal. 

Jean would not be forced into stepping back or of hiding from confrontation. Nor would she give up a genuine opportunity to try her hand at what she had been determined to do for the longest time- hone her telepathic skills. And here was a mind, willing and open

"You might like it," he said, grinning down at her, the space between them practically closed.

She began to think that this was a dangerous business for completely different reasons than those she had discussed with Scott.

"I really doubt it," she feebly rejoined, unable to stop the smile and blush of her cheeks. He seemed utterly serious- all cockiness aside. 

__

Okay, Jean. You can do this. You're a professional. It's professional. 

Licking her lips and raising her hands to the sides of his face, she steadied herself and took a deep breath.

_Pain. Mind-exploding pain. _

Every limb on fire, screaming, screaming. Somebody's screaming.

Is it me? Green liquid swirls, bubbles fly past my nose. How can I scream in water? Is it water?

Distorted masks skulls? Zombies floating in and out of my vision white hot pain, all the colors of the rainbow but mostly green

Pulled in ten directions at once- my bones are breaking zombies cackling pain, so much. 

She forcefully broke the connection, her eyes flying open, scared, breathless, recovering from the all-too real nightmarish vision. She tried to speak but found no voice, still feeling choked by green bubbles. 

Logan clasped both of her hands in his, warm, comforting, so large in comparison. Genuine concern writ across his face. "What did you see?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer to his question, frightened by her reaction.

She looked at him, her eyes slightly teary, wide-open and disoriented. It was too much- she looked away.

And saw Scott in the doorway. _Oops._

"Scott," she managed somewhat breathlessly, and pulled her hands away from Logan's reassuring grip.

Scott said nothing, just stood there, dumbly staring, arms folded like he had caught a student defacing a mansion hallway. 

Jean hastily made a retreat, heading to her room, hoping that Scott would follow her example. After she had turned the corner and had found herself to be alone in the hallway, she cringed, feeling slightly ashamed and slightly pissed off. _What right had Scott to make any assumptions about her and Logan anyway? It wasn't like she was kissing him or anything (although there's a thought)_

She waited in their bedroom for him to come and admonish her but he didn't appear. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and combed it through, counting the minutes. She didn't hear screaming or ambulance sirens- always a good sign.

She tentatively reached out telepathically and found him on his way to the gym. _That bad_, she winced, thinking that this time she really would have to order a new punching bag. 

TBC.


	8. Part VIII

The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road

Part Eight/?

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You've finally returned," Jean remarked upon seeing her fiance enter their room. She finished tying her lavender robe tight across her waist and placed her hands on her hips. "I'll order a new bag tomorrow."

"No need," he grunted, shedding his sweater and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. He had chosen to work out his anger on tweaking some of the additions he had added to his motorcycle. It hadn't been nearly as satisfying but infinitely less destructive.

"Good," she said, lowering her arms and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't want to do it anyway."

She watched him as he took off his shoes with intense concentration. 

"Scott," she sighed impatiently. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Don't be an ass."

"You mean to tell me that I was walking in on something other than a harmless conversation?" he asked with forced surprise, a hand pressed against his heart. "I'm shocked, I tell you. Shocked."

"To find gambling going on in this establishment?" she feebly joked, curving her lips slightly. "Really, Scott. I have no intention of insulting your intelligence. Logan is a very handsome man."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Don't be childish. It's not like _you're_ blind when it comes to pretty women. Logan's been that way all day, you know. Flirting with me."

"Well, then, that's it. Pistols or swords at dawn- your choice."

"Flirting with a pretty woman's not a crime."

"It better not be."

"He knows I'm with you."

"He does," Scott said pointedly as he pulled off his sweater. 

"I suppose you reiterated that for him once I left?"

"Of course. I left out the pistols thing, I hadn't known the scope of his offense. Perhaps I should go and issue my challenge now. Or should I get one of the students to carry it in letter form to him?"

Jean grimaced and contemplated her hands folded on her lap. After a long pause she spoke in a soft voice. "He asked me to read his mind. I did."

__

I could do that and I'm not even psychic. And what was she doing fooling around with that stuff, anyway? He frowned and merely continued to stare off into the opposite corner of the room. 

"Oh Scott, for heavens' sake," she shifted on the bed, reached up a hand to his chin and turned his face to look at her. "I read his mind and it terrified me."

"What," Scott had to lick his dry lips before he could continue, unsure of himself and now, since her last statement, of her, "what did you see?"

Jean closed her eyes tightly, pressing her lips together hard, remembering the intensity of the pain. Her body involuntarily shuddered as Jean felt as if every square inch of her skin was being pricked with needles. Her bones ached

A hand touched her face, hesitantly at first, and then a more reassuring caress. She knew that touch. "Scott," she managed his name as a whisper.

"Jean, stop it. Stop it, you hear me? Come back to me. I'm right here," he held her awkwardly, one arm behind her supporting her back and the other still on her cheek. "Look at me, Jean."

"It hurts"

"Look at me, Jean. You're okay, you're okay"

Her eyes flew open, wide and with irises startlingly opaque next to her pale skin. They closed almost as quickly as they opened and her hands made a grab for him, clutching and pulling. She held onto him as if her life depended on it. 

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay"

Slowly her grip loosened and she wiped her eyes with two fingers under her lashes. "I'm alright. I haven't gotten the hang of disassociation with the subject yet. The professor says that in time"

"Dammit Jean! I don't care about your telepathy lessons!" he shouted and turned away from her, lowering his head into his hands. "I care about **you**," he mumbled to his knees. "I don't know why you do this to me."

She glared at him. "I spent a whole week trying to come up with ways to make you miserable," she remarked nastily. "I am so glad that my evil plotting has come to fruition."

"Don't play with me."

"You think I'm joking? Logan is actually a member of a New England dinner theater- I asked him to come to the institute and pose as a new recruit just to get your goat."

"Dinner theater," he repeated hollowly, struggling not to laugh.

"Dinner theater. Does a mean King and I."

At this, Scott could finally take no more. He burst out laughing, uncontrollably, until his sides hurt, falling backwards onto the bed. Jean had begun to titter as well.

"I hate you, Jean. You always make me laugh."

"So much for the reputed Summers poker face."

"Seriously, though," he propped himself up slightly on one elbow. "This Logan"

"Something horrible happened to him, Scott," Jean said in a quiet, very serious voice. "When I when I looked into all I saw was fragments, but it, it was awful." She shivered as goose bumps broke out on her forearms. She rubbed at them distractedly as her eyebrows knit together in thought. "He was a victim of some kind of experimentation but I can't make it out. All I see is pain," her voice quivered slightly. "So much pain."

"What does he remember?"

"Nothing. Or maybe the same things. Uncontrollable pain inflicted by shadowy figures and green bubbles."

"Did you just say green bubbles?" he managed with a snicker.

"Scott, it's not funny. I think he was immersed in something."

"Something green?"

"Yes."

"Was it jello?"

She glared eloquently at him again, still rubbing her arms. 

"You're scaring the hell outta me, you know that?" he remarked, flopping onto his back again.

"Scott, I-"

"It wasn't nothing, what I walked in on."

"I know," she admitted, idly running her fingers through his hair, spread out on their bedspread like a miniature brown halo framing his head.

"You know this isn't about him, right? I mean, you know that I trust you--"

"With other men's bodies, but not with their minds." She pulled her hand away and shook her head. "If anything happened to the Professor, we'd be helpless. No one would be able to work Cerebro--"

"You have a rare gift but what use will it do anyone if you can't control it? If it destroys you?" He sat up quickly and placed his hands on either side of her face. "What if something happened to you? How would any of us know what to do- you're the damn doctor- how could I save you then?"

"What if I don't need saving?"

"Everyone does. I did, once, remember?" _Remember that frightened boy that couldn't see, that was so angry and miserable and lonely that all he wanted to do was curl up in the darkness and die?_ "You, Jean, saved me from myself."

"It wasn't me," she whispered as tears began to run down her cheeks. He smoothed them away with his thumbs.

"It was always you, you idiot. From day one until the day I die- a date which perilously creeps closer as the stress of living with you mounts up. I swear, I bet I have gray hairs."

She smiled and gave the top of his head a vigorous rub so that half of his hair stood on weird angles. "You can't see gray, Slim."

"I can differentiate tints and that's all I need. Light, dark, mmph!"

She hit him with a pillow. "Idiot."

"I pour my heart out and now I'm getting abused. Is it any wonder that my nerves are shaky?"

They grinned goofily at one another from opposite corners of the bed, their former harmony restored. Jean crooked a finger and urged him closer.

"Bring your shaky self over here and let's see if we can't calm you down some."

TBC

A/N: In reference to some questions regarding the last chapter: My memory of the movie dialogue can get sketchy between viewings. For any dialogue that was mangled, I apologize and list the offence under "artistic license." Whichever dialogue you prefer, I suggest you visualize the scene with that selection. 


End file.
